I watch the steam as it rises so full of promise
then gone.
There is a night that lives inside
a perpetual darkness made of dead love
and forlorn forgotten and rotten ideas.
There is no steam there it is gone
changed into a new energy a lost wayward plea
or a hard cold surface, impenetrable.
He said: my soul is leaking
and I have no patches
I was supposed to make them,
but I never did.
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Really like this one. Some grand lines.
a perpetual darkness made of dead love
And of course the last four lines.
Did I mention I like the image too?
Thanks Eli! Input from a respected writer is like food.
A perpetual darkness made of dead love, yeah I liked that line as well.
thank you!
perfect surrealism with a drop of zen!
drop of zen! yes…
“…a perpetual darkness made of dead love
and forlorn forgotten and rotten ideas.”
“…He said: my soul is leaking…”
Wow! your lines are captivating, the concept of leaky soul
is great, kinda like a leaky gut. Bravo!
thanks Lumiere! Leaky gut…love that